


Be My Prince(ss)

by lamebutsecretlyawesomenerd (Lamebutsecretelyawesomenerd)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Disney Princess Stories, Fluff, Frerard, Friendless Gerard, Gerard hits his head and bleeds a little, M/M, Maybe some legit kidnapping, Minor Violence, Music, Orphan!Frank, Turns out the princess thing doesn't actually work out, Violin prodigy, loner!Gerard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamebutsecretelyawesomenerd/pseuds/lamebutsecretlyawesomenerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a classic Frerard story.</p><p>Frank is a pretty cool guy.  Overall, he has a few friends, goes to a good school, is alright with academics, and looks pretty fine.  </p><p>Gerard, on the other hand, is...interesting.  Quite a strange fellow.  </p><p>Through a kidnapping and lots of suspenseful action, they spawn an unusual friendship that will probably, most likely, almost definitely become a fluffy love tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cinderella much?

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda meant to be a oneshot, but I don't know what I'm doing.

"Now tell me, what is an incredibly gifted violin prodigy doing at a rock concert twenty minutes after midnight?"

"I could ask you the same."

"Yes, but, you see, there's this thing. It's called parental permission. It's where you don't sneak out from your bedroom window in the middle of the night to attend a concert for a band that your mother probably has banned you from listening to. And, for that matter, how did you even buy a ticket?"

"None of your business."

"Right. Not suspicious at all. Also, you're, like, 17. How'd you get into an 18+ concert?"

"Well, you're 16 and you look about 13."

"Stop countering my arguments and answer some of my goddamn questions."

Gerard's eyes widen as he spots something over Frank's shoulder.

"I have to get home," he says in a rushed tone.

"What? Why the hell would you go home after going through all this trouble to see a concert for 5 minutes?"

"I just-ugh. Shit. How did he know I was here? I just, I have to go."

Before Frank can even hear the last words, Gerard is gone. Literally, it was like he just vanished into thin air. Poof.

Frank shrugs and turns to reenter the overstuffed room when something catches his eye. Gerard had left his jacket on the staircase railing. Cinderella much?

Frank leans over and grabs it, looking around before sneaking his hand into the left pocket. Inside, he is met with two sticks of gum and a candy wrapper. He stuffs the gum into his back pocket and reaches into the right side.

There, he finds something he wasn't expecting. Why would a talented, smart, _underage_ kid with the world's strictest parents have a pack of cigarettes? Either way, it didn't seem like a bad idea to use just one from his nearly full pack. He hadn't had a smoke in a really long time, not since his pneumonia. That was a real killer, knocking out both his singing voice, and any strength to play guitar. So basically, he was a living, breathing shit for the past few weeks. And, unsurprisingly, he had just been recovering from a cold in the days previous.

 _Fuck my lungs_ , he thought. _They'll be dead soon, anyway, what with all the sicknesses that love to manifest themselves in my cells. Hey, that rhymed_. No, it didn't.

Frank just shrugs off his inner debate of idiocy and sticks the cigarette in his mouth carelessly. He lights it and finishes it off slowly before heading back inside. The truth is, he didn't really have permission to be here. But then again, there wasn't really anyone to give him permission. So really, he had his own permission. His parents were, well, he didn't actually know where his parents were. One they, his dad had taken off and left him in a shitty town with his mom. She had then proceeded by dropping him off at a boarding school in the middle of some place in some town that wasn't home.

He hadn't seen his mother in years. She was probably off somewhere, becoming a billionaire on a game show. That's what he used to think. At least, until he realized that she wasn't coming back to get him. What he still doesn't understand is how his education is being payed. He just goes to school, that's just the way it works. He doesn't think about it anymore. He had tried asking before, but no one knew. But that's what they all said. Apparently, no one even knows anything.

He decided to get a job, but there wasn't really any place that was willing to take him in. He was left jobless, with a surprisingly decent education, thus leaving him to stop worrying about money and just enjoy the fact that he didn't have to worry. So, he pursued music. He turned out to have a knack for the guitar, the timpani, and the clarinet, which he found interesting, considering he had so many diseases concerning his lungs. Either way, he participated and thrived in the music program at school. He was considered one of the best musicians in the school. That is, until Gerard showed up.

Gerard was a day kid. Yeah, he was born during the day time, but he also attended school and went home to sleep in his own cozy bed. He joined in sophomore year. Frank was a freshman, but he had been there since sixth grade. He knew pretty much everyone and everything about the school, so seeing someone new was a shock. It was a pretty small school, so he already knew exactly who he liked and disliked, as did the other kids. But with a new kid, it threw everything off balance. Or at least, that's what he thought. Turns out, though, that he had no impact on the school. Like, at all. He wasn't friends with anyone, and no one was friends with him. It wasn't a hate-hate relationship, it was just a nothing-nothing relationship. Like he never even existed at all.

Now, the only reason that Frank, or anyone for that matter, knew his name was that he was always there. Maybe it was just Frank (he really hoped not), but everywhere he turned, his pale face and brown-green eyes were pointed directly at him. Literally, he turned a corner, Gerard was there. He ditched lunch, Gerard was there. He went to the bathroom, Gerard was there. Also, Gerard was a pretty accomplished violinist, so he was pretty well known in New England. What he was doing at a school like this, no one knew. But no one really cared, either, so everything worked out alright.

Frank, realizing he had no where to put the jacket without it getting stolen, decides to wear it. It is Saturday night, so Frank figures Gerard will just see him at school on Monday. Plus, the jacket is super soft. And it's definitely a deal breaker if the jacket isn't soft.

He ventures back into the concert and meets the eyes of his friend, Pete.  He had been away for more than 10 minutes, missing a portion of a concert he had somehow managed to sneak in to.  Gerard was right, he does look 13.  But the tattoo on the side of his neck kind of states otherwise.  At least, it makes Frank feel better.  

Now, Pete is kind of a genius.  Well, _idiot savant_ is a more suitable term.  He is talented in some things, but atrocious in others.  And when Frank says atrocious, he means atrocious.  One of Pete's talents is observation.  Unfortunately, his lack of being able to let things fucking go is a balance.  So, seeing Frank in a jacket that he hadn't been wearing before made his eyebrows shoot up into his own jacket hood.  Frank just waves his hand in a dismissive motion, knowing he will be interrogated later on.  He lets out a sigh before weaving into the crowd.

__

The concert ends about an hour after it began, leaving Pete and Frank to walk eight blocks at one in the morning in the middle of a not-so-safe town in New Jersey.  Great.  They are about halfway there before they hear footsteps from behind them.  Pete looks discreetly over his shoulder and turns back to Frank, eyes wide.  Frank understands and makes a small movement with his left hand.  Pete nods, bending down to tie his shoelace.  They both hold their breath as they listen to the footsteps halt.  Neither of them know what to do.  Frank had only been outside of the campus with Pete a few times, both during the bright hours of the day.  Frank perks his ears up as he hears three words escape Pete's mouth almost silently.

"no...run...alley."

Pete stands and makes his way to the entrance of an dark alley.  Seeing a flash of movement, he jumps backwards, turning and making accidental eye contact with the pursuer. 

"Run!"

The word barely leave Pete's mouth before both boys were pounding their feet into the floor, the only sound in the middle of the night being the slap of their shoes against the pavement.  The footsteps behind them quicken as they round a corner, ducking into an alley.

The men turn the corner and follow them in, about to tackle Frank and his friend when a hand reaches out.  Pete and Frank's mouths are hanging wide open, watching as a hooded figure beats their pursuers unconscious.  

The hooded man turns to them and lets his hood fall onto his shoulders.  He is taller than both boys, a kind smile on his face with dirty blonde hair on top.  

Frank is still panting, trying to get out a thank-you in some form, but eventually giving up on even trying to make any sound.  Pete thanks him about a thousand times before he is interrupted by the hacking sound of Frank's cough.  The two other guys watch as Frank leans against the brick wall, still coughing violently.  The hood guy reaches into a plastic shopping bag and hands Frank a bottle of water.

"Here.  I haven't drunken from it.  Besides, you guys probably need it more than I do."  
  
He hands one to Pete who chugs half of it before sighing and sitting down against the wall.  Frank cautiously takes a sip, waiting for a second before doing the same as Pete.  They both begin to talk at once, trying to thank the guy and explain their situation.  

It only takes a few minutes before Frank starts to notice it.  Pete notices it, too, looking sharply at Frank.  Frank attempts to nod, but his head is spinning violently.  His vision is blurring rapidly, his throat feeling tight.  He breaks into a sweat, glancing around quickly as his heart roars in his ears.  The last thing he sees before he blacks out is a guy with a kind smile and dirty blonde hair standing over him.


	2. A New Friend, a New Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One minute, he was fine, the next, lying on the ground."  
> Sleeping Beauty kinda reference. Almost a Taylor Swift one, too. But not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go. Thanks for reading!

Unfortunately for every student, Monday comes quickly. The halls have not yet begun to trickle with people. It's kind of like peeing. It starts slowly, then suddenly, it all happens at once.

There's no way to stop it until it decides to stop itself. Well, maybe it's like falling in love, too.  
Gerard is more of an expert on urinating than love.

Either way, Gerard is in the school way too early. He isn't technically supposed to be in his home room building yet, but he has had years of practice picking locks. That's the thing, Gerard could practically be a criminal. Or a spy. He can pick locks, fit into small spaces, sneeze silently, fall asleep just about anywhere, stay up for extended amounts of time, he can even shoot a gun.

Spy or not, he's a really good liar. Like, really really good. Although, nothing can compare to his brother's famous poker face. His face is literally unable to move.

It wasn't hard for him to make up an excuse for not having his jacket, saying he had left it at school. Unfortunately, he has absolutely no idea where his jacket is. Hoping he had, in fact, forgotten it somewhere in the midst of the halls, he arrived half an hour early, ready to comb the school. If he doesn't have it by the end of the day, he is most definitely in trouble. And no one wants to deal with an angry mom like Donna.

After spending too long searching for his jacket, he eventually gives in to the warning bell. Most students have already made their way to class, leaving an out of breath Gerard in the middle of the hallway.

 _Fuckit_ , he thinks. No one really cares whether he's in class or not, even the teachers, so it won't really matter if he ditches. Just for today. He's dreading going home and getting chastised, attempting to drag out each second on his way to the park. He gets lost on his way there, winding up on some side street in the middle of fucking nowhere. Hearing a voice from around the corner, he peeks his head out, spotting a boy around his age. He is mumbling something inaudible, turning as he spots Gerard. A smile crosses his face.

"Hi, I'm Brendon."

"Hi, um, I'm a lit-"

"Can you help me? I need help. I lost my bicycle and I can't find my bicycle and if I can't find my bicycle, my mom will kill me and I can't let her do that because I haven't seen my bicycle and I need my bicycle to get home and I can't find my bicycle and I don't know where I am and I need it to get home and my bicycle is lost and can you help me find my bike?"

"Well, when did you last see it?"

"I don't know what time it is and I can't find my bicycle just help me find my bicycle and I need my bicycle and my mom's gonna kill me and I need to find it and I just want my bicycle and can you help me find it?"

Sensing an alarming feeling of danger, and smelling the drugs on this guy, Gerard turned as quietly as possible, slipping away. He retreated back down the street he had come from, but soon hearing the voice of Brendon behind him.

"Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle. I need my bicycle."

The rambling continued on for what seemed like forever, always trailing behind Gerard. He tried to find his way back to school, attempting to picture a map of the town in his head. It was kind of hard, considering all he could hear was 'bicycle, bicycle, bicycle'.

He continued swiftly through an alley, attempting to lose the kid. He had only walked a few feet down the street on the other side of the dark alleyway before realizing the pounding of feet and constant mumbling had stopped. He turned around, looking in every direction. The kid had just...vanished. Poof.

He stood on the sidewalk for a minute, considering his options. On the one hand, if he turned back, he could be stuck with the 'bicycle, bicycle, bicycle' kid again, but something didn't seem right. Where had the kid gone? What if he had passed out? What if he tripped and was bleeding to death? Thought after thought passed through his head. Every scenario could be possible, or Brendon could have just walked the other way.

Anything's possible. The only thing that scared him was that the kid could report him, or something. Like, if he was bleeding to death and Gerard just kept walking, he could be accused of, like, something. Yeah, that sounds right. Either way, Gerard decides not to take the chance. He walks back to the entrance of the alley, poking his head around in a similar gesture. He peeks around just in time to see a man with dirty blonde hair facing Brendon.

His mouth is moving rapidly, mostly inaudible strings of words escaping his over-large lips.

The man looks bored to death, his hands shoved into his pockets. Brendon's eyes then focus on Gerard, his facing lighting up as he reaches up a hand and waves. Gerard gasps and whips back around the corner, pressing himself up against the entryway of an apartment. He listens as the blonde guy reaches the street and looks around. He holds his breath until he is sure that he has retreated back into the alley. He makes his way back to the entrance, once again sticking his head around the corner carefully.

After Brendon asks the blonde guy where his bicycle went, he speaks.

"Just shut up."

"No, but you need to help me find my bicycle."

"I said to shut up."

"But, can you help m-"

His words are cut off by a hand swinging at his face. He rocks backwards, hitting his head sharply on the corner of a dumpster. In one punch, with the assistance of a dumpster, he had been knocked out cold. One minute, he was fine, the next, lying on the ground.

Gerard watches, horror evident in his expression, as the boy is lifted onto the man's shoulders and carried to the opposite end of the alley. The man speaks into a walkie talkie. In seconds, a black van pulls up in front, resuming the drive once the man has loaded the body into the back.

As the van is speeding away, he processes that he just witnessed a kidnapping. Before he can think, his feet are slapping against the pavement, chasing down the car. He crosses the alley and reenters the sun when a hand reaches over his mouth and covers his face. He resists and struggles, but is unable to scream. At least he isn't being anesthetized. That's what he's thinking when he's thrown into the back of a black van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	3. No Shit, Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know if there is a princess story relating to this...  
> I'm gonna go with Ariel because their feet are tied together and barefoot. Man, I suck at these!

The first thing that Gerard sees as his eyes adjust is feet. Three pairs of bare feet. One of which belonging to the still knocked-out Brendon, the other two attached to the legs of two figures with black blindfolds over their eyes. Due to the nonexistent light in the back of the van, Gerard can't see their faces. Their heads hang low, feet twitching as they sense Gerard's entrance. It was a grand entrance, by the way. He had oh-so-gracefully managed to half slide, half forward roll into the van. Basically, he did a belly-flop and spent the next three minutes trying, and thankfully succeeding, to keep himself from puking.

The next thing Gerard sees is a jacket. Actually, it's his jacket. Now, what are the chances that an average, teenager boy who had been previously searching for a lost jacket gets kidnapped and is reunited with his jacket whilst getting driven to an unknown location. What are the odds. Probably 1 to---  
He could most definitely make a Star Wars reference, but, due to previously stated circumstances, he decides against it.

So, he does the most logical thing that comes to mind. He talks. Now, when Gerard talks in general, it usually-always-has a disastrous outcome. So why he decides to talk, Einstein wouldn't be able to figure out. He speaks, nonetheless. A truly horrible decision, by the way.

"Um, that's my jacket."

The two boys perk their heads up, surprised by the sudden speech. The boy on the right decides to speak first.

"Excuse me?"

"No, not you. The other one."

"Oh, him?"

"Who else would I be referring to?"

"In case you can't tell, we're kinda being fuckin kidnapped right now. Are you really trying to steal my friend's jacket?"

"It's not stealing if I'm just retrieving what is rightfully mine."

"Look, we've been in this car for days. I don't even know how long. We're hungry as fuck, we're tired as fuck, and we're pissed as fuck. Not to mention that were literally covered in our own piss."

"Ew."

"No shit. I thought sitting and rotting in your own pee was a vacation hotspot."

The guy on the left speaks for the first time.

"Pete, ease up a little, alright?"

"No, I'm not gonna 'ease up a little'. We've been in this fucking van for days and we still haven't even found a way out of our blindfolds. And now, this new kid comes in and asks for your jacket? Like, what the fuck, man? What the actual fuck?"

Pete seems angry.

"Nice observation skills, genius."

The idiot named Gerard has apparently lost any form of an inner monologue. Left guy speaks again.

"Look, I know it's kinda hard to think about, but the sooner this gets through your head, the faster we can get out, alright?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts. We don't have time for that, okay? Here's the thing, we don't know who they are. We don't know where they're taking us. We don't know where we are right now."

"Dandy."

"Shut up, you annoying little fuck."

"Please, Pete. Let's try to keep the fighting to a minimum."

"Anyways, we don't know who you are, either, so the sooner we do know, the better."

A spark goes off in Gerard's head before his mind implodes.

"Frank?" It comes out more as a whimper than a question.

"I'm sorry, do I know you? How do you know me?"

"Um, yeah. I know you. And I think you know me, well, maybe not, but I do know who you are, just someti-"

"Cut the crap, kid. Just tell us your name and how you could possibly know Frank."

"I'm Gerard."

Frank wants to laugh and cry and scream and die and punch something a lot right now. Partially because he fucking _knows_ Gerard, and partly because he realizes now that after four days of trying, it is virtually impossible to escape.

"Holy shit. This is your jacket."

"Why the fuck does the fucking jacket matter right now? We are trying to get out of the fucking van. Of course, this would be a hell of a lot easier if we weren't blindfolded."

"Wait, I'm not blindfolded." Gerard didn't really want to say that. He had to, but he didn't want to. If they make him do something, which is now inevitable, he is responsible. So, if they end up failing and spending the rest of their lives in who knows where, it's his fault.

As if on cue, Pete speaks up.

"Well, motherfucker, if you're not blindfolded, then get us out of these things." He attempts to gesture to the rope coiled around his hands and feet, but ends up looking more like a mermaid trying to stand.

Gerard seems to understand well, reaching forward to busy himself with the ropes. Unfortunately, he ends up tangling them more. He almost begins laughing, but stops himself. The last thing he wants is to upset them further.

"Okay, because you've officially become an idiotic, flailing excuse for a person with any coordination, just take off our blindfolds so we can do it ourselves." Pete's annoyance was so evident, Gerard can almost feel it piercing through the blindfold. He obeys and attempts to avoid all eye contact with the boys as he undoes the knots.

Pete's pissed-off voice once again rings through the small space.

"Looks like they caught themselves an ugly one, huh?"

Frank once again speaks. Gerard has yet to acknowledge that Frank, _Frank_ , is in the same situation as him. This is the boy whom he had seen just days before. The night he had lost his jacket.

"Oh, shut up, Pete! You and I both know that it's too dark to see his face, so don't speak before you judge him. Plus, your looks can't compare to Gerard's."

Right about now, Frank is so grateful that it's dark, even if they are being kidnapped.

"Okay, wait wait wait. So, if you know him, Frank, then how do I not? Because the only people you know are students at our school. So, who the fuck is he?"

"You idiot! He go-"

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Oh my gosh, Pete! What the fuck? He goes to our school."

"Oh yeah? Then how come I never see him?"

"Maybe it's because you're one unobservant son of a bitch. He's literally been at our school for months."

Gerard speaks up, feeling a little lost.

"I am right here, you know." And he's ignored. Well, at least he tried. His eyes focus on something near the front of the van.

He sees a flash of movement in the dark, whipping his head around to see Frank smack Pete on the head. All three boys realize it at the exact same time.

Pete, as always, speaks first.

"Dude, how'd you get out of the ropes?"

"I-I don't know," Frank stutters, bewilderment evident in his voice. "Holy shit. How'd I get out?"

Suddenly, a bright light flashes in everyone's eyes. Gerard blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust. Once again, the familiar voice of Pete sounds.

"Nope, I was right. He's ugly."

"Okay, well at least his personality isn't as ugly as yours."

"Can you two just stop talking and help me? I need my bicycle and I can't find my bicycle. I need help. I lost my bicycle and I can't find my bicycle and if I can't find my bicycle, my mom will kill me and I can't let her do that because I haven't seen my bicycle and I need my bicycle to get home and I can't find my bicycle and I don't know where I am and I need it to get home and my bicycle is lost and can you help me find my bike?"

A thought flashes in Gerard's mind as he watches Frank untie himself and Pete with the light from the phone. These kidnappers are pretty sucky if they don't even take away the phones of their victims.

"Hey, Brendon. What would you do to find your bicycle?"

"Anything. I'd do anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I don't think that made any sense. Oh well! Just wanted to let you know that I am so happy you are reading this story! Also, I have almost 150 views on 2 chapters. That's kind of a lot for me on AO3! This is really really different from FFN. Haha, anyways love you all.


	4. Jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They escape. But then don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to...me.

"Jump!"

He can't do it. The ground is rushing by too fast. He watches as Brendon's body flies past him. He hears him grunt as he lands on the pavement, but he is soon too far away. He's getting smaller too fast. They're moving too fast. 

"Frank, JUMP!" That's the last thing he hears before someone literally steps behind him, picks him up, and jumps out of the back of a moving van. He braces himself for the fall, but never feels the pain. He only feels himself landing, but there's no shooting pains like he had expected. Instead, he feels warmth. Warmth.

It takes a few minutes before Frank can even open his eyes. He had been blindfolded for days, so the light is kind of an unexpected surprise. He isn't sure yet whether it is a good or bad surprise. He blinks repeatedly, eventually feeling something stirring around him. It takes him another few minutes to realize that whatever is around him is, in fact, a person. A person by the name of Gerard. He hears Gerard groan and instantly gets up to see that Gerard had smacked his head against the pavement. His eyes are closed, but his arms and legs are moving. Frank breathes a sigh of relief before realizing three things.

1\. He can't seem to find anyone else. That's quickly resolved when he hears the Brendon kid mumbling about thirty feet away.  
2\. He was just quite possibly saved by Gerard.  
3\. Gerard is hurt. Like, his head is gushing blood. 

He shrugs off the jacket from around his shoulders quickly, stuffing it under Gerard’s head. He does his best to stop the bleeding. He hears Pete’s running footsteps from behind him. Just as he is about to call for help, he hears Pete yell something.

“What?”

“C’mon! We gotta go, they’re turning around. Hurry up, we gotta hide, there’s no way we can outrun them.”

Frank stares in horror, listening for a distant rumble of an engine. He can’t hear it, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before they’re found. He thinks quickly, but his mind is blank. They had jumped on a street in the suburbs of an unknown city. The darkness encloses them as they search for a hiding place. Eventually, Pete motions for them to jump a fence and take refuge in someone's backyard. Frank follows, but freezes when he hears Pete's voice.

"Wait, there's only three of us."

"What?" Frank looks around, but only counts three.

"Shit. Herald."

Frank's face becomes laced with confusion. Brendon is lying face down in the grass, but is listening to the conversation.

"Um...Herund. Ferald. Gerald. Oh, yeah! Gerald!"

"Gerard?" Brendon slowly sits up. 

"Yeah, yeah, that kid! Where is he?"

"Shit! I left him-he's unconscious, hit his head." Frank starts running back, leaping over the fence and back towards the direction they had come. He isn’t sure if the men have caught up to them yet, but he knows he is running out of time. He groans, hearing the footsteps of Pete and Brendon a little ways behind him.

"I can't lift him alone, you guys. I need help. I mean, I'm a tiny guy!" He throws his hands up in an exasperated motion after attempting to lift the limp body. Gerard isn’t overweight, Frank is just small. Eventually, Pete and Brendon catch up to him, managing to half carry, half drag Gerard back to the large yard. They manage to hop the fence just as two things happen at once. 

The first thing that happens is a door opened and shut, revealing a guy about Pete's age. He is being yelled at by his mom. Frank silently wills her to shut up for a few seconds. Seriously, it’ll do everyone good. The boy is cringing at each word his mother throws at him. Eventually, though, she slams the door shut, leaving the guy to stand on the porch. He looks about ready to punch the wall, but stops himself. Instead, he walks across the lawn. 

The second thing that happens is a black van drives by. It literally passes right in front of the house. The collective sigh of relief is almost audible.

The four boys are hiding in a corner of the fence behind a single bush, praying that the darkness will conceal them well enough. Well, everyone but Brendon. He is long past his high, but that doesn’t mean he is really a sane kid. He tries to stand, but is yanked back down by Pete. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He has an iron grip on Brendon, but the boy is still squirming.

“Just let me handle this, okay? Who was the person that got you out of those ropes in the first place? Um, I think it was this guy right here,” Brendon whisper-shouts, pointing to himself.

“Yeah, but who’s the guy that was high just hours before? Hmm, I wonder. It couldn’t possibly be this dipshit over here!” Pete angrily gestures to Brendon, but in the process, he loses his grip and Brendon is sent crashing into the thorn bush.

“AHHH!!! Fucking shit ugh! Shit shit shit, fuck you, you fuckhead! This is all your fau-” Brendon’s string of profanities is cut short by Frank’s hand clamping over his mouth. Unfortunately, the boy is walking towards them quickly. There’s no time to hide, so the four teens just sit and hope for the best. 

Also unfortunately, the boy has a very high pitched scream, exercised when he spots four complete strangers in the corner of his fenced in yard, one of which is stuck in his thorn bush with a hand over his mouth. Also, three of the four of them have bruised faces and one is unconscious and covered in blood. To add to that, they’re all barefoot, sweaty, and covered in dirt. Quite a pleasant sight, really.

And further worsening the circumstances, amongst the group, there is a guy with a very high pitched scream, exercised when another person screams. 

So, in the following moments, the boy screams, Brendon screams, Gerard awakens, and a street away, two men dressed in all black and a guy with dirty blonde hair hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm finally a year older!


	5. Code Names and Parkour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She just expects me to be some sort of perfect, golden child. She doesn’t understand that I’m not her, just as a 16 year old boy.”  
> Reference to Brave or something. Maybe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy at your own risk.

“My name is...um...well, Heisenberg. You see, we have just been through a lot and, if you are willing, would you mind-”

“Okay,” Frank interrupts, “so, this idiot is Pete, this idiot is Brendon, and this lovely fellow smeared in blood is Gerard. And I’m Frank.”

“Um...hi.”

“So, yeah,” Pete continues, “it may be hard to believe, but we were pretty much just kidnapped and managed to escape. And now, we’re hiding. I mean, not to scare you or anything, but you’re pretty much in danger. Not your fault-well, actually it is. Because you decided to come over to the corner of your yard. Beautiful yard, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Frank nods and carries on, “You’re in danger because you’ve seen us. And we’re pretty much supposed to be dead or something. Also, we have no idea where we are and are having a little bit of difficulty walking, as demonstrated by Pete.” 

He motions to Pete just as he tries to stand, but his legs shake uncontrollably until he falls face first into the mulch.

“So, Pete and I have been locked up for around two or three days, while Gerard and Brendon have been fortunate enough to not be tied up or in the van for more than a day. Now, we’re not threatening you or anything, but you must know, if you do not shelter us, we will most likely tell our kidnappers where you live. So shelter us. Also, what’s your name?”

“My name is...uh…”

“Just tell us the truth. And don’t follow in this nincompoop’s footsteps.”

“Hey! I was trying to protect us. You know, just in case.”

“Just in case of what, Pete?” Frank turns to look at him. “Why the hell would you tell him your name is ‘Heisenberg’? Like, seriously, it is the most obvious name in the world. You might as well have called us ‘Los Pollos Hermanos’. What made you think that was a good idea, anyways? It’s not like we’re trying to advertise that we were involved in illegal business that might have gotten us killed.”

“Sorry,” Pete holds his hands up in surrender, “jeez. What ever happened to adding a little fun to the party.”

“Pete, this isn’t a party. Alright? This, this right here, is not a party. How the hell will fun be helpful in a situation like this? We’re as good as dead right now. Don’t think that those men aren’t looking for us. Because they are. We’ve escaped from their kidnapping and they don’t want that getting out. They’re-”

“Coming.” Gerard finally speaks. 

“What?”

“Right there,” Gerard is pointing beyond the fence. All five heads turn and 10 eyes go wide at the realization of what is actually coming towards them. 

“Everyone inside, right now. Go go go. My name is Patrick. Run! C’mon, hurry!” They guy, Patrick, shouts this all in one breath, but no one moves. “Go!”

After shoving Frank and Gerard forward, he grabs Pete and Brendon by the arms and drags them towards the house. When they’re all on the porch, he reaches and tugs on the door handle. It doesn’t budge.

“Shit!” 

Frank finally snaps out of his shocked daze.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“My mom apparently thought it was a brilliant idea to lock her son outside for getting a bad grade. She just expects me to be some sort of perfect, golden child. She doesn’t understand that I’m not her, just as a 16 year old boy.”

“Well, can we go in another way?” Frank is now moving his hands frantically as he speaks, constantly looking over his shoulder. The men are at least three lawns away, plus, they don’t know where they are, but it’s only a matter of time before they’re found. And met with their doom.

“The bathroom window is open, but it’s on the second floor. And unless any of you can do parkour, there isn’t really a way to get up there.”

A voice sounds from behind them, making Pete, Patrick, Frank, and Gerard’s heads shoot up.

“Did someone say ‘parkour’?”

“Shit, Brendon,” Pete exclaims, "you can do parkour?"

"What? Psh, no! What, are you insane or something?" At that, Pete, Frank, Patrick, and Gerard reach over to flick Brendon's temples. 

"Ow!! Alright alright, I get it, you all hate me. Moving on, what are we gonna do? Hey, look! There's a thing there!"

"And?" Frank urges him on.

"If you grab that thing and get on to that thing and then climb on that thing then go through that thing, you're in."

"Alright, anyone following?" Gerard, Pete, and Frank shake their heads to Patrick. 

"Well," Brendon, for some reason, continues speaking, "we'll need someone small to do the job."

Everyone turns their head to Frank.

"Hey! Make Patrick do it! We're, like, the same height!"

"You're the ones who are being hunted right now, not me. You do it. There should be a ladder at the top that my mom got for fires. You know, the ones where you anchor it and then climb down."

"Frank, up you go."

After many failed attempts to get up by Frank, Patrick, and then Frank, they're able to all climb up the ladder the Frank takes forever trying to tie down. They make it into the house safely, but hear someone calling Patrick's name.

"Yes, Mom?"

"What's all that commotion? Come down here."

"Um, I-one second."

They hear footsteps on the stairs before Patrick ushers them frantically into the tub, shielding them with the shower curtain. He slams the window shut just as his mom pops her head in the room. 

"What are you doing?"

"I-uh-I. Well, I just wanted to, um...take a shower. I'm...cold."

"Alright, well, because you're taking forever to get downstairs, I'll start it and go down."

"No! Wait, don't-" but it's too late. She has already stuck her hand in the behind the curtain, missing Gerard's head by a fraction of an inch. She turns the knob on the wall and water comes splaying out of the faucet head. They hear the door close and Patrick sheepishly pulls back the shower curtain, revealing four incredibly angry, wet, and dirty teenagers glaring at him.

"You are the worst liar known to mankind. Okay, well, either you or Pete."

"Hey! Frank, don't act like you're such a good liar! Remember that time when we were let to class and you said that we had stopped to get a stuck cat out of a tree because it was allergic to the leaves? Oh yeah, and not to mention, it was the middle of winter."

"Ladies, ladies, please. We need a game plan. And some towels, if you wouldn't mind, Patrick," Gerard states as Patrick hurries from the room. "We need to think here. We can stay here, but after we leave, are we safe? Like, the guys saw at least two of our faces, if not all. And we can't stay here forever, we'll have to get back to school. Wait, how is the school reacting to our disappearances? What about our families?"

He stopped talking as Patrick reenters the room. 

"One towel for Pete, one for Frank, one for Gerard, and one for...Brendon." They look around the small bathroom to find no trace of the troublesome boy.

"Shit."


	6. Cake?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy Petericia. Think of it as reverse Mulan. Or don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even a thousand words...disappointing.

"No, you see, if you spray the pan, then line it, then spray it again, the cake just slides right out after. No need to cut and grunt and lift and whatever. Just trust me!"

"A-alright. H-How did you learn th-that?"

"My mother taught me."

"Oh! So you do have a mother?"

"Well, of course I do! How do you think _all this_ came to be? But it's not like I can go to her, so don't think about sending me to her. She threw me out a long time ago."

"Why?"

"Stuff. Anyways, so yeah, pour the batter in slowly. Yeah, you got it!"

"Brendon?" Brendon turns around to see Patrick in mid-shove, resuming a more natural stance as his mother turns around.

"Patrick," both Brendon and his mom say at the say time. And then they both go to hug him, ending up in an awkward glance between the three of them. Brendon backs up and grabs the batter-filled pan, stuffing it into the oven and setting a timer.

"Patrick," his mom begins, "can I have a word with you?" She drags him into the hall before he gets a chance to nod.

"What is he doing here?" She whispershouts in his face, ending up showering Patrick in spit. He looks around the hallway, wondering where Gerard and Frank have ended up. There's one more, but Patrick can't seem to remember his name. He turns his attention back to his mom.

"He's a friend."

"Yes, and that explains why he's leaving trails of water everywhere he walks. That totally explains how he got into the house without my knowledge. And that completely explains how you came in when I locked the door!"

"Calm down, Mom! It's alright, he just came over because he was nearby and got attacked by sprinklers, so I thought I'd just give him some dry clothes and send him on his way."

"How'd you get in?"

"Brendon knows parkour." His mom raises her eyebrows at him, but accepts his story and turned back towards the kitchen. At that moment, a toilet flushes from somewhere inside the house. His mom whips around and freezes, glaring with all her might at Patrick. Then, strolling around the corner comes Pete. He glances around at the scene before turning straight around and retracing his steps towards the bathroom. Patrick's mom turns to him, so he shoots out an answer.

"He was with Brendon."

She just sighs and makes her way over to the pantry. She pulls open the door and turns back to Patrick.

"Find the flour and bring it to the kitchen." With that, she turns and walks back into the kitchen, engaging in a small conversation with Brendon. Meanwhile, Pete is trapped in a bathroom with a faulty lock. Unfortunately, he somehow thinks that he wasn't seen by Patrick's mom, so he makes no sound.

"Flour, flour. Where are you, flour?" Patrick is muttering to himself as he flicks on the lightswitch. He closes the door behind him, revealing a Gerard pressed up against the wall and a Frank pressed up against a Gerard on the wall. They both kind of stare at him in shock for a few seconds, exchanging glances with one another. Eventually, Patrick whispers directions to the bathroom and orders them to go to his room to stay out of sight.

"Wait," Frank whispers back, "why the bathroom?"

"You have to pick up Pete."

"Pete?"

"Yeah, Pete." Gerard walks back to Patrick from where he was standing down the hall. He leans over and whispers something in Patrick’s ear.

“You have to pick up Pete.”

“Pete?”

“I’m not having this conversation again. Go to the bathroom and pick up Pete.”

Frank and Gerard then make their way to the bathroom, softly knocking on the door.

“Pete? Are you in there?”

An extremely high-pitched voice responds to their question.

“No. My name is...Pete-Petetricia. Yes! My name is Petetricia.”  
“Petericia,” Frank repeats, crossing his arms in front of him and glancing at Gerard’s laughing face. “Now tell me, Petericia, is there a guy in there with you?”

“Of course not! Why on earth would I be trapped in a bathroom with a devilishly handsome, witty, and absolutely perfect in every way genius?”

“Shut up, you little dipshit. We’ve got some planning to do.”

Pete then pokes his head out of the bathroom door.

“Planning?”


	7. Where'd you go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another stupid filler chapter. I promise there's some plot coming!

After checking numerous times to be sure their journey would go uninterrupted, the slightly insane trio heads up the stairs and into the mysterious chamber that could lead to their doom (a.k.a “Patrick’s Room”). The second Pete steps into the room, he jumps onto Patrick’s bed, bouncing three times before bumping his head against the ceiling. He cries out in pain and scowls as Frank rolls his eyes and plops onto the floor. Gerard’s concerned face disappears as he begins laughing, watching Pete try to join Frank on the floor, but losing his balance almost immediately. He slams headfirst into Frank and lands in probably the most awkward and painful position ever. The face-crotch. Frank rolls onto his side in pain as Pete sits up and ducks his head down. “Dude,” Frank groaned, “are you really that against me having kids?” His question was met with nothing but awkward silence and Gerard’s laughter. Both boys turn to glare at Gerard, but he continues laughing. “Oh shit,” Gerard begins, hearing a conversation from downstairs drift through the door. “No, no mom! I’m sure something just fell from my bed or something. Trust me, I’m sure it was nothing!” “Well, it won’t hurt to look,” Patrick’s mother calls as the three boys hear her footsteps on the stairs. They exchange a worried glance, knowing they have mere seconds before she would enter the room. Gerard frantically looks around in the dark, searching for something to stall her. Before long, she pushes the door open, but it stops. She pushes harder and moves the one chair blocking the door's path out of the way. She glances around, pushing the door open as far as possible to get a good look. Patrick rushes up beside her, panting slightly, and quickly speaks. “See? I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about!” His mother only sweeps the room with her eyes cautiously before returning to the kitchen. Patrick steps into the room and spins around, searching for his new companions. “Frank? Gerard? She’s gone, you can come out now.” He walks to the door and shuts it, once again revealing Gerard and Frank pressed against each other and the wall, their cheeks flushing pink. He sighs and steps back to his bed. “You know,” he starts, laying on his back, “I’m starting to think that you guys are enjoying this hiding business. What, with all of your blushing and stuff. By the way, where’s Pete?” He lifts his head to glance around now, turning his head before giving up and staring again at the ceiling. He hears Frank groan at the thought of Pete. "What? Do you dislike Pete? Oh no," Patrick says, a worried look flashing across his face, "you didn't push him out the window, did you? Because I can't explain that to my mom!" "No, no, don't worry. Frank didn't push Pete out a window. They just had a rather-erm-painful encounter." "Did it involve windows?" "No, dude. Calm down, Frank just doesn't really like the idea of Pete right now." "Since when? I mean, you and Pete have seemed pretty comfortable around each other..." He looks at Frank, confused, but is soon met with an explanation. "Well," Frank starts, "probably since he decided to headbutt me with enough force to knock down three doors and a poorly potted plant in the crotch." Patrick's face immediately scrunched up in pain at the thought and Frank nodded. "Yeah. It hurt. Anyways, where did he go? He was with us this whole time.” “Eh, I’m sure he’ll turn up. My house isn’t that big.” “Yeah,” Gerard responds, “but this is Pete. I’ve barely know him, but this sounds like trouble.” “I agree. And I do know him, so I say we go look for him. He could be anywhere right now. Or, well, maybe not.” Frank walks over to the bed where a sneaker is sticking out. He steps on it awkwardly, grinning when he hears a shriek, and sticks his hand underneath, exclaiming almost immediately in pain. “Dude! That’s my hand, you don’t need to bite it! What are you, a cat? Seriously, that hurt.” He starts to pull out his hand, but his arm stops moving abruptly. “Let go of my fucking hand, Pete. Come on, let g-Nope. No, it doesn’t count if you release my hand and then sit on it. Dud-” His words are cut short when he is pulled under the bed. Gerard glances up at Patrick and they share a worried glance. “What the fuck just happened? Do you have a Kraken living under there?” “No, but it seems like your friend is residing down there now.” Gerard walks over to the bed while Patrick is speaking, bending down to look under. He smiles at Frank. “Hey, Frank.” “Hey, Gerard. Look what I found.” He angles his body so Gerard can see a familiar face. “I found a Brendon! A very rare subspecies of Idiot, in case you didn’t know. It also belongs in the Lying Bastard family. All of which is categorized in the Moron genus. But I’m sure you knew that.” Patrick appears next to Gerard. “So,” he begins, “if that’s Brendon, then where’s Pete? Wait, aren’t you supposed to be with Mom?” Meanwhile, downstairs, Pete slinks into the kitchen, avoiding being seen by Patrick's mother. He moves like a ninja, thinking only of three things. Quiet, stealth, and Brendon. He must find and rescue him before it's too late. Before th- His thoughts are interrupted by Patrick's mother turning around. He ducks under the kitchen table and prays that he isn't seen. Unfortunately, he knocks over a chair in the process and she bends down to view him through the kitchen chair's legs. "Brandon?" Pete's mind races as he thinks of what to say. Finally, it comes to him. "It's Brendon, actually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Love hearts <3


	8. It's random update day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randomness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made some small changes to chapter 6, btw.

Pete climbs out from underneath the table, bumping his head (again) in the process. Patrick's mom gives him a quizzical look.

"Your forehead looks...never mind. Actually, it's about time to get the cake out of the oven, so if you wouldn't mind..." She trails off and gestures towards the oven. Pete steps backwards and shakes his head.

"I don't bake. I've never even been near an ove-. Just kidding! Um, I made that cake, right? I'm sure I can take it out." Patrick's mom looks at him like he's grown a second head and he forces a smile, letting out a huge breath and cracking his knuckles. He slides on the oven mitts that she's handing to him, but instantly takes them off. She watches him silently as he wraps his arms in numerous towels before finally putting on the oven mitts. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, deciding she's dealt with enough today. Eventually, as Pete is taking off the oven mitts for the third time to wrap his arms again, she speaks up. 

"I really don't think that's necessary. I mean, the oven is quite small." Her words are ignored and she glances towards the window. She really has spent the entire night baking a cake and being completely confused. Also, she was pretty sure that this wasn't Brandon. Maybe. 

"Why did you make me bake a cake in the first place? I mean, it was almost midnight. And now it's about 2:00 in the morning. Why are you here, anyways? How did you get in? Who was the boy in the bathroom? What are all of these sounds? Who are you? Where did Patrick go? Who were the men that knocked on the door? Can someone please tell me what's going on?" The questions pour out, but Pete doesn't answer. She looks back to him, watching his arms shake as he stands in the middle of the kitchen with a fresh cake pan in his hands. His face freezes before his mouth opens.

"Ahhhhh!! It's hot hot hot hot where do I put it? Ah, it burns it burns so bad! Why is this happening, what do I-"

"What are you doing? Put it down on the counter! It's hot, even with all of your...protective gear." Once it's away from him, Pete rewinds his brain to process her questions. But he freezes at one of them. Did she see him? Was he the boy in the bathroom? All of his confidence in his ninja skills plummet as he keeps his brain going forward. But once again, it stops. 

"What men?" His voice comes out slightly choked and high pitched.

"The ones that came and knocked on my door. There was a guy with blondish, brownish hair and some other guys that were pretty nice-seeming. They had said they were looking for a few students who had escaped from a boarding school.”

“What did you say?”

“I told them that I didn’t know anything. But then again,” she lets out a light shrug, “here you are, in my kitchen. So, tell me, how do you know Patrick?”

"I-uh-I. Uh, I, um. Uh, well, I um tord te flemish form tha mida kay. Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going nowhere with this story. Sorry for not updating, but a lot happened and I just wrote this note on the 13th chapter of Speak to Me, so if you want more, go read it there. I'm not sure when I'll update, but thank you so much for reading and sticking with me even though I'm super annoying.
> 
> Also, my first story, Getting Better Starts With a Piece of Cake is 10 views away from 1k!! Thank you to all who have read it!


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